


The Detective of Atlantis

by elsexton29



Category: Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Atlantis, BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mild Language, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:11:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsexton29/pseuds/elsexton29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU – Atlantis. John is a sailor who rode down with Milo to discover the lost city of Atlantis. Upon arrival, each person dispersed and explored the city. John found himself face to face with an Atlantean, Sherlock. Sherlock was extremely brilliant and deduced him without John having to say a word. As the pair become attached to each other, how much will they risk to stay together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Detective of Atlantis

John was just a sailor. A very good one, but very average nonetheless. When he was offered the chance to go on an expedition that would risk life and limb to find some great lost city, he jumped at the chance. John never turned down an adventure, and this one came with the added possibility that it could pay off big time. Even if it was located off the coast of Iceland.

He spent most of the journey carrying luggage or taking turns at a few monitors that he was qualified to watch. Within this crew there was a higher circle of operators with specialties, such as the Doctor or the translator, and then there was a lower group of people who were available for manual labor if the circumstance arose. John had begun his training as a Doctor, but had disregarded it for the Navy when the war started. This unused time allowed him to catch up on his reading, if only he had more reading to catch up on. With him, he brought along two books. Both of which he had read twice. He now took to doodling in the margins. 

There were times when things were high adrenaline, but they were sparse. John had been asleep when the Leviathan attacked. He was jolted awake, but couldn't do much by that time to save anyone else. He was able to escape to the dark underground cavern. It was then that he realized it is very possible that he wasn't going to make it back. He was one of the few of the lower circle crew members that made it out. He was only able to salvage his two books. The only things he had left in his possession. 

He was able to be one of the drivers of the vehicles. At least there he was present. He was also allowed some more upfront action with all manner of strange creatures like the real “fire” flies. 

Unfortunately he was at the back of the pack when they ran across Kida. Barely getting a good look at his first Atlantean until she stood up straight and removed her mask. Everyone was so shocked that there was actually people here. There wasn't supposed to be anyone still alive. For a while they spoke in languages that John couldn't even begin to understand until they ran across English. Part of him was relieved he wouldn't spend the whole trip in complete confusion. He finally allowed himself to hope that he would be able to escape this journey. 

The crew was led down by Kida down to a beautiful crumbling city. Everything looked alien. Water was ever present and vegetation grew upon stones hiding thousands of years of lost culture. Each citizen looked at them in fear. They wore little clothing since the climate was so warm, but each member wore a blue crystal around their neck and strange blue markings covered their bodies. 

The chief was different in he wore great flowing robes. John's mind kept wondering how old that man must be. He wasn't happy letting the crew stay, but allowed them one day. 

John separated from the crew. He was going to try to enjoy his one day in this foreign land. He tried talking to the natives, but they just cowered from him in fear. Instead he settled on exploring the surrounding lands. He moved through abandoned buildings and over crumbling walls. He found himself drawn to one place. It was a beautiful water fall coming from so far up that he couldn't see the entrance. It sprayed down into a pool which swirled around until it trickled down the hill in a very skilled dance. He pulled off his shoes and sat on the bank of the pool. He began to put his toes in the water. He was expecting something along the lines of extreme coldness, but it was actually very warm. Where ever this water was coming from it had to be close to the surface. 

John was so mesmerized by the drops of water that he didn't notice when another being approached him. First he saw the foot. A few inches away from his own thigh. He glanced up to see a man, but he appeared different to the other natives. His hair wasn't white, but pitch black and curly. His skin much lighter, but still retained the same light blue markings. He wore a sarong of sorts that was different shades of blue and purple. 

He took a seat next to John and put his own feet in the water. “You're a, what do they call them, Nautical seaman.” 

John was a little taken aback. “Why- Yes. I'm a sailor. How did you know that?” 

The man smiled. “I observe. Just like how I knew to speak English to you and not another language. You've seen a lot of war, yes?” 

John wasn't sure what to do next. Should he be frightened of a man who appeared to know a lot about him or fascinated. Luckily John was always an adventurous soul. “Yes. I am a soldier of sorts. I'm John Watson.” He held his hand out for the man to shake in greeting. 

He looked down at it quizzically. “I'm Sherlock.” He placed his own hand in John's and quickly withdrew it. 

Sherlock. That was a strange name, but so seemed every other name in this place. He might be a little different, but at least he was willing to talk to him. John put his hand back down to his side. “What is your story, Sherlock?” 

“My story?” He questioned. 

“Your history. You seem to know a lot about me, but I don't have a clue who you are. I would love to know more about your world, if you wouldn't mind telling me.” John explained. He kicked his feet and sent up more water into the air. 

Sherlock's chest heaved largely with an incredible sigh. “I am an outcast to the city. If you want to know about the city then I wouldn't be the one to ask.” He waited for John to object, but he didn't. “I am Sherlock. I was born differently here. Some believe it was the work of the gods being upset at my mother. In reality, that wasn't true. She actually had fallen in love with someone who wasn't an Atlantian. It didn't change much besides my outward appearance. She always wanted to keep my father a secret, so she let them believe it was a curse of the gods. She died before ever setting the record straight. Now everyone believes I am cursed and are afraid of me.” 

“That sounds horrible.” John sympathized. “I am not the favourite in my crew either.” 

John noticed Sherlock staring at the small creatures dancing between Sherlock's toes. The seemed to avoid coming close to John at all. “It is alright. It allowed me time to develop my mind. I'm one of the smartest men you'll find in Atlantis. They always come to me if they need help solving something.” 

“Like a detective?” John interjected. 

Sherlock's look became confused. “Detective? I suppose so. I help people solve cases that they would not otherwise figure out on their own. Their brains are much too small to deduce what I can. I've helped many people. Unfortunately, it only adds to their notion that I am cursed. They believe it is all some sort of demonic trick. It doesn't stop them asking for help when they really need it.” 

John nodded. “I understand loneliness. I haven't seen my family in over five years and any friends I had on this journey died when we were attacked by a Leviathan. The current crew don't even know that I exist.” 

Sherlock cocked his head to the side. “I could be your friend. If you don't mind being shunned by everyone else. They won't like you being around me.” 

John tried to let him down easy. “Do you really think that is the best idea?” 

“You're right. You wouldn't want to taint your name with the likes of mine.” He began to stand up, but John pulled on his wrist. 

He shook his head furiously. “Its not that. I am only here for one night. I don't want to become attached and then have to leave you tomorrow. I don't want to lose any more friends.” 

Sherlock settled back down into his seat. “I understand. You could always stay.” 

“I don't think I could. Your culture doesn't have room for someone like me.” 

His head hung down low. “They don't have a place for me either. Still, I would like to know what it was like to have a friend for one day.” 

John thought about it for a moment, but how could he refuse the man's one wish. He had a soft spot for the downtrodden. He wanted to make his life better, even for just one night. “Alright, I'll be your friend.” 

A large smile spread across his face. It was the first time John had seen it, and there was something innocent and endearing in it. It was obviously not a face that smiled much. John cherished this one. “Aren't you hot?” 

The tropical conditions were affecting him. There was a pool of sweat building beneath his collar, and he felt sticky all over. “Quite hot, but this is all I have left. Everything else was lost.” 

Sherlock didn't seem to understand personal space because his next actions put John into a frozen state. He began unbuttoning John's shirt and pulled it off of his shoulders. Underneath was a t shirt, and it was almost completely soaked with sweat. Sherlock took the liberty of pulling that over his head as well to reveal his bare chest and his dog tags. He slid down into the water and rolled up the legs of John's trousers until they reached his knees. “Better?” He asked wading in the water before him. 

John cleared his throat composing himself. It did feel much cooler. “Yes. Thank you.” He looked at Sherlock and noticed the couldn't see the bottom of the pool of water. It was much deeper than he had initially realized. “What is down there?” John asked indicating the water. 

Sherlock shrugged. “A few different things. Sea creatures mostly. Small ones. They have built their homes along the rocks. Would you like to see?” 

“God yes.” John slid off the bank, but wasn't as graceful as Sherlock was. His decent making a large splash. 

“Are you good at swimming?” Sherlock questioned. 

John chuckled. “I am a member of the British Royal Navy. Its kind of a requirement to be good at swimming.” 

“Good.” Sherlock replied as he pulled on John's hand and towed him under the water. John thought he was good at swimming, but if Sherlock didn't keep ahold of him, he would have never kept up. It was almost as if the man had flippers. John did a quick spot check to make sure he actually didn't. He didn't. His blue crystal shown bright beneath the water and created an underwater flashlight. Sherlock towed him deep past great large crevices covered in coral and colourful fish that weaved in and out of long flowing seagrass. Crustaceans scurried along in harmony with the swirls of water. It was one of the most beautiful things that John had ever seen. The fish swam up to Sherlock and seemed to kiss his skin, but hung away from the foreigner John. He began to pull on Sherlock's hand indicating that he needed a breath. They swam back up to surface. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I forget we can hold our breath for a very long time.” 

John smiled comfortingly. “No it's okay. That was amazing! I don't know if I have ever seen anything quite that beautiful.” He pulled himself back on the bank. 

Sherlock did the same. His curly hair now weighed down with water. “I think people around here tend to forget some of the beauty this place has to offer. Too consumed with their own trivial problems. They miss the world passing them by.” 

John tried wringing some of the water out of his pants. “I think that is just people in general. It happens no matter where you are.” 

Sherlock shook his hair out some. “I don't concern myself with much knowledge about it, but I always take some time to appreciate it. I don't need to know how they build their underwater colonies to see that they are beautiful. Would you like to see some more of Atlantis?”

John stood and held out a hand to help Sherlock up. This time he understood. “I would like that.” 

“Let's drop your things by my dwelling and I'll show you around. Where is your stuff?” Sherlock asked. 

John motioned to his pack containing his two books and his one blanket. “That's it. Everything else is lost.” John put his shirts, and socks into the bag. He felt he would probably regret it, but he just slipped on his shoes. He followed Sherlock as he lead him over broken stones away from everyone else. He stopped in front of a curtain separating the inside. “Here we are.” He announced. All surrounding area looked abandoned. The building seemed kept up. They moved inside and John dropped his pack to the floor. Inside it was cozy. It had a lived in feel with odds and ends scattered around the small rooms. 

John's eyes focused on the one photograph. It was of a woman with striking white hair holding a baby with dark curls. Her eyes seemed so alive as she smiled at her child. Each sporting a blue crystal around their neck. “Is this your mother?” 

Sherlock nodded. 

“She's beautiful.” John made a turn about the room and came to pause before him. “Where are we going to go?” 

“Exploring.” Sherlock said before turning and sauntering out. John had to rush to keep up. He was much shorter and didn't have the advantage of Sherlock's long legs. 

John stopped short as they began to approach a thick forest at the edge of the city. “Wait. We're going in there?” 

Sherlock came out from behind a tree. “Of course. It isn't as big as it looks. We'll be fine.” 

He moved next him. “Alright. I'm trusting you. I can navigate myself across vast oceans, but you put me somewhere where I can't see the stars and I'm completely lost.” They moved between the trees. The ground littered with smaller plants that had to be stepped over. Hanging from the large trees were swaying vines that John wasn't sure were safe to touch. It was like playing an advanced game of Secret Agent Man where everything would set off an alarm. 

Sherlock had been quiet for a few lengths, but then asked. “What are stars?” 

John paused for a moment. “Ah, yes. I don't imagine you would know much about them. On the surface, there is this atmosphere covering our -” He tried to think of a better way of saying it than planet. It was doubtful he would know much about the rest of the planet. “lands. Beyond that are these twinkling lights in the sky that migrate very slowly. They never leave their formation, though, and for that reason they are excellent tools to use for navigation.” John tried to step in Sherlock's footsteps and mimic his movements. 

“Are they beautiful?” He asked. 

“Very.” 

“I would like to see them one day.” He remarked holding aside a branch so John could come through. 

John ducked under and waited for Sherlock to take the lead again. “I would love to show them to you.” John offered. “If you ever have a chance to come back to the surface I would love to guide you around.” 

“I doubt they would much like me up there any more than they do here.” 

John wasn't sure how to respond, so he didn't. He couldn't speak for how people would treat him on the surface. Hell, if they knew he was an Atlantean, they would dissect him. That or put him in an asylum for being mentally deranged. People weren't any nicer on the surface. Although, he could get a wonderful job as a linguist. “How do you know so many languages? How many do you actually know.” 

Sherlock's back still facing him as they continued forward. “I'm not sure. We just sort of do. It seems like there are many of them just swimming around up there. We can pull them out depending on the need of our situation. Of course we have our own dialect that we normally speak to each other. We don't have much use for any other languages, but we still know them somehow. It was one knowledge that hasn't been lost to us when so many others have. We can't even read our own language any more. No one remembers how.” 

John stopped, shocked. “Really? You can't read at all?” 

Sherlock motioned him over. “Here. We're at the centre of the forest.” 

He peaked out from behind a tree to see a meadow full of light long grasses. They seemed to sway back and forth in the wind. Each swirling together to make patterns. It was like they were dancing to complex and silent music. “That is truly amazing.” 

“I have always been obsessed with natural rhythms. Music helps me to unwind. Come sit. Be apart of it.” 

John followed Sherlock and sat down. He could barely see the trees for how tall the grass was. It seemed to move and lick their skin as it swayed in the breeze. 

“No. The answer to your question.” Sherlock mumbled. 

“What?” 

“I can't read. I can't read anything. We could at one point, but not anymore. No one in the city can. It is one thing I desperately want to know.” He confessed quietly. 

John smiled at him encouraging. “I could show you. I only could show you english, but at least it would be something.” Bird came soaring in low over there heads and John took a moment to marvel that there were birds down here. 

“Are you sure that wouldn't be a bother. I would greatly appreciate it. I can remember a time of great knowledge, but that was before the flood.” Sherlock remarked absentmindedly. 

“Wait. What? You remember? How can you remember?” John asked flabbergasted. 

“I was there. I watched as the waters came and took our home. It was only through sacrifice were we saved. We have been down here ever since.”

John examined the man in front of him. He had to be younger than he was. He didn't look any older than 35 at the most. “Sherlock, how old are you?” 

He leaned back on his palms. “I'm not sure. I lost track. So many memories lost. That's why I want to know how to read and write. That way I won't forget most of my life.” 

John's jaw hung open. “How? How are you that old? You look younger than me.” 

He played with the crystal around his neck. “This. It slows our ageing to the point that it almost stops. The children you see running around are probably hundreds of years older than you are.” 

John tried to compose himself. “Everything here is just so amazing. I can't believe most of it. I just keep seeing things and it doesn't make sense. Not to the world out there. To them, you don't exist. The entire culture was just a legend. Something fanciful that someone made up.” 

Sherlock took to looking at the birds, tracking them with his eyes. “What use is a long life when you're alone for the entire time. No one to share it with. Not even a companion to talk to. Some days I look at the crystal and want to take it off. To age and die naturally. It seems like a more forgiving route. All the knowledge and puzzles in the world isn't worth it if you have to spend all the time incredibly alone.” 

John felt bad for the man. He could see it in his eyes. They contained all the pain of past years. Their mysteriously liquid blue colour seemed clouded in anguish. He reached out and held his hand. “You're not alone any more.” He squeezed it once then let it go. 

He stared at John. “Yes, but this is only one day.” He shook his head, as if changing mindsets. “I will cherish this one day forever.” 

That seemed to hit John somewhere in his heart. He was always a saviour of the downtrodden, but what could he do this time? It is not like he could actually stay, and he couldn't take Sherlock with him. John would continue to grow old as Sherlock stayed in his 30s forever. Someone would notice. He enjoyed the man's company, but there didn't seem to be a solution. Just as he was lost in he was lost in thought his stomach rumbled loudly. Amidst all the excitement he had forgotten to eat, but his stomach didn't. 

Sherlock looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Hungry?” He gracefully rose to his feet. He almost appeared to be one with the grass and the birds. “We'll go get something.” 

John trailed behind him as he lead them back out the way they came. He was ducking beneath a branch when Sherlock decided to talk again. “I don't know what you're used to eating, but it is a mainly seafood and greens diet here.” 

John chuckled. “That sounds wonderful. Anything that isn't Cookie's cooking sounds wonderful. I'm not sure I can stand eating another thing dripping in mysterious fat gravy.” 

Sherlock shot him a look of disgust as they exited the forest. 

“Exactly.” They began to move back to the city. The air growing less humid as the day drew nearer to a close. John noticed as kids became more active with the reducing heat. A team of them were kicking a ball like object around as they passed. Another Atlantean couple moved to the other side of the street as they approached. John wondered if it was a reaction to Sherlock or to himself. It didn't hit him until he seen several of his own crew interacting with the locals. They got along pleasantly and with wide smiles on their faces. So it was a response to Sherlock then. The thoughts made him pensive.

They began to enter into an outdoor market of sorts. They weaved between stalls until Sherlock motioned to a small stand near several benches. “This place has some of the best food you can find here. Any preferences?” 

John stared in confusions for a few beats. He had no clue what to order. “What ever you believe to be the best.” 

John followed as Sherlock went up to the stand and begun speaking in a language that seemed to contain too many consonants. The stand owner seemed to get angry as his voice grew in size. Sherlock handed over a couple gold coins and the man handed him two wrapped items. Sherlock motioned over to the bench. They sat down at the far end. 

“What was that about?” John asked as Sherlock handed him one. 

“He didn't want me scaring off business. Especially with the outsiders coming in. I had to agree to stay away from everyone else or else he wouldn't serve me.” Sherlock said as he opened his wrapped item. John thought for a moment that Sherlock was ashamed, but he wasn't. He wasn't embarrassed that everyone seemed to hate him. 

John looked down at his own meal. It appeared to have some resemblance to a fish taco, but when he bit into it, it was so much more. The flavours seemed brand new. Something he had never before experienced. The fish was easy to distinguish, but even that seemed to taste different. Originally he had thought that the green leaf like bits would be lettuce like, but were shocking in comparison. John looked to Sherlock. “So, you said you were good at observing people. Can you show me on someone else here. Rather someone you haven't known for thousands of years.” 

Sherlock had taken a few bites of his own “taco” and set it down. He didn't look as if he had any intention on picking it back up. He leaned back on his shoulders. “Let's see. Do you see her.” He pointed to Audrey. “She is obviously a fixer of some sort. Technology most likely. Good with her hands. Also a masculine personality. Probably a strict father.” His eyes scanned the crowd for the next person. “And him.” He motioned to Mole. “He is strange even to your kind. Would most likely speak a different language. French most likely. And judging by the amount of dirt he is covered in, he must be some sort of soil analyst. Even now he is fascinated by the ground.” 

John sat for a moment in stunned silence. “Amazing. That was perfect. Yes. Spot on.” 

“Really everything? I didn't think I would get everything. I usually get a few things wrong. When making conclusions from the evidence provided, not everything is a certain. Just a strong probability.” He explained as John finished his fish. He sat straight upon seeing Rourke. “I don't think trusting that man would be a good idea. He seems to have contradictory motives.” He glanced to check that John was finished eating. “You ready? There is one last thing I wanted to show you before we slept.” 

“Absolutely.” John wanted to see anything that Sherlock found noteworthy. He seemed to be an excellent judge of what was important and what wasn't. Sherlock lead him away from the direction of the forest. The darkness encroaching closer and closer. It wasn't long until they stumbled upon something so astounding. Over dark blue pools of reflective water was pathways that wound and swirled in all directions. The crystals of Atlantis mixed in with the pave stones and brought a warm glow. Over each path were trellises with hanging vines covering the overhead. Stepping onto a path seemed to transport you to a small section of the world that was your own. “This is fantastic.” He said as they walked along. 

“The water gardens were always a favourite of mine. Even if there are many people here, it seems to be so quiet. Although most don't come anymore.” Sherlock reached up to touch a hanging branch lovingly. “Abandoned. Just like everything else here. I'm just waiting on it to crumble into nonexistence. I'm not sure how this has stood while the city and our people fall.” 

A breeze came through, ruffling Sherlock's hair, and sending a shiver up John's spine. It was getting far too cold for his attire now. The ever observant Sherlock noticed, and looped and arm in John's. He moved his body closer as they walked to share heat. John remembered Sherlock's lack of personal space, and tried to write it off as only that. It did bring an idea to his mind, though. “So, have you ever brought a girl here?” 

“A girl?” Sherlock repeated, confused. 

“Or a boy.” John corrected quickly. “Anything really. Like a date. . . Mate?” He wasn't sure the term that would strike Sherlock. 

He shook his head. “No one who would really want to come with me. Besides, there aren't anyone in this place that wouldn't bore me to death.” 

“Are you bored now?” 

“I can't say that I am. I haven't been bored once talking to you, John.” 

He snickered. “I've always been the adventurous sort, but you would definitely get bored eventually.” 

He didn't answer, but continued walking. John couldn't help but to steal glances up at him. His face was something so unlike anything else. It was all angles and unmarked by any imperfections. While others had markings on their faces, Sherlock didn't. It only made his eyes even brighter. His dark curls creating barrier between himself and the world. The pale glow seemed to be reflected in his pale complexion. For some reason, he felt himself drawn in. He wasn't sure why. He had never before been attracted to another man. There was no doubt that Sherlock was gorgeous, but he could say that about several men that he never paid more than a few seconds of attention to. 

There was something more about this being. He wasn't just a human, he was a force. Something so powerful that John didn't feel he could escape. He seemed like nature itself. Dragged down and worn, but still fighting. Still prevailing. He was rhythm and music and dancing. In the way he moved and the way he thought. Everything flowed from one to the next seamlessly. He was adventure. Unafraid and unashamed of everything. Determined to act and not to only hypothesize, but to experiment. He was what John missed in his life. The parts that John tried to fill individually, but never quite seemed like enough. The things John could technically live without, but didn't have any desire to. 

John's entire body started sweating as Sherlock glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He knew he would know he was staring. It was obvious, and Sherlock didn't need obvious to know. He stopped and turned to John. He let his arm fall down as Sherlock slipped his arm out. John's mind suddenly reeled with assumptions. It was too much. Sherlock knew what he was thinking, and didn't feel the same. He was disgusted by John. He was afraid of what John would do now. He asked for one day, and he couldn't give him that. He only wanted a friend - . 

John's brain stopped as Sherlock leaned forward. His heart pounded so fast it felt like it had given up and fallen out of his chest. His skin felt electric everywhere as Sherlock slowly raised his hands to touch John's cheek. His fingertip slid across until it came to cup under his jaw. Sherlock's full lips drew nearer and John's eyes slipped close. It was different in every way to every other kiss John had ever received. His breath caught in his throat as his lips pressed against the taller man's. He felt swept up. He pushed up against their lips with a hunger to be closer. To finally be whole. His hands slipped up Sherlock's sides and pulled him close. Motions seemed to come in waves and need drove through John. He fought it the best he could, but it was like substance after a lifetime of starvation. Sherlock's fingers tightened in John's hair, and his mouth opened slightly. Just enough for John to glide his tongue in. He moved his tongue against Sherlock's, taking each other in, until Sherlock pulled back. 

John's heart seemed to restart, and he couldn't hear much over it's beat that had taken up residence in his ears. He became incredibly nervous that it would become awkward. 

“That was right wasn't it? The correct way to express fondness for another person.” Sherlock asked boldly. 

He giggled at the question. He found it endearing. “It was definitely correct. I don't think I have ever experienced anything that was more right.” 

Sherlock smiled. “Nor I.” He licked his lips slightly. “Its getting too chilly would you like to go back and get your things?” 

John nodded and followed Sherlock. For several paces he followed behind like he had the entire trip. Then he took several large steps and caught up. He laced his fingers through Sherlock's and squeezed. Sherlock didn't glance down, but did return the gesture with a squeeze of his own. 

The temperature difference between Sherlock's dwellings and outside was astonishing. John didn't think that it would provide much protection being stone, but it was a great change. Immediately Sherlock started building up a fire. John had pulled down the legs of his pants and slid his shirt over his head. 

John sat down on the couch next to Sherlock. “Thank you for today. It was amazing in ways I couldn't have imagined. It really was perfect.” He waited for Sherlock to respond, but his gaze seemed focused on the building flames before him. “I'm glad to have met you. Thank you. I really should go and check in with my crew. I am sure we are going to be leaving sometime tomorrow.” Still, with no response from Sherlock, he began to get up to leave. 

Sherlock's hand shot out to grab onto John's. He quickly turned to look at Sherlock's face. His eyes seemed to glisten with moisture. “Please, don't leave me yet. Not when you'll still be in the same place. Don't go.” 

John sat back down, but Sherlock didn't let go. He didn't know how to answer, so he just nodded. He guided Sherlock as he leaned back so that Sherlock's head ended up on his chest. He held him tightly. Emotions stirring deep within the depths of himself. Could he ever actually bring himself to leave now? He kissed the top of Sherlock's head. He felt less self conscious as he spoke since Sherlock was facing away. “I didn't know things could be like this. Doesn't it make it feel like the rest of your life was always missing something without your knowledge?” 

Sherlock's arms tightened around John's torso. “Yes. I'm not sure how I can let you go now.” 

John traced a blue tattoo that swirled along Sherlock's back and disappeared down his side. “Me either.” 

Sherlock's chin pressed into John's chest as he looked up at him. He looked as if he were deducing every part of his being. He touched John's face and his fingers followed along John's lips. John kissed them each time they moved. “In all my year's I have never met someone like you, John Watson. For so long, I considered myself unlucky. Always seeming to get the worst, but for once I see myself as the luckiest man alive. And what it is to be alive. For not giving up all those times.” 

John wasn't okay with the thought of Sherlock killing himself. Even if it was naturally. “I couldn't imagine myself here without you.” 

Sherlock pulled on John's dog tags and they slipped out of his shirt. He turned the metal discs over in his hand. “What are these?” 

“Military identification tags. They just relay basic information.” 

“Like what?” 

John paused for a moment. “Just like my name.” 

Sherlock seemed to light up and examined them even closer. “Where is your name?” 

John pulled them out of his fingers gently. He pointed to the line. “Right here.” 

He kept staring at the line for several moments before speaking. “I never want to forget what your name looks like. If it becomes the only written word I can recognize, it would be enough.” 

John smiled as his heart swelled. He knew Sherlock didn't want to forget this day. Through his thousands of years left of life he wanted to remember him. He wanted to be able to write his name and recall his time. This moved John so much that he slipped the chain over his head and dropped it over Sherlock's. The metal discs never moving from Sherlock's hand. “Then you should have them. You should have a proper guide to recognize it from and not just by memory.” 

Excited, Sherlock rocked forward and kissed John's lips. “I actually was wanting to give something to you as well. I've been thinking about it since we came back from the water garden.” Sherlock took off the leather cord containing the crystal and wrapped it around John's neck. 

John was at first touched, but the horrified. “Sherlock you can't. You need it.” 

Sherlock shook his head. “I have another, but I want you to have this one. It belonged to my mother. I started wearing it after she had passed, and now I want you to have it.” He held his fingers on John's lips so he couldn't protest. “I know you are determined to leave, and in that case it will serve as a reminder of your time here with me. If by some miracle you decide to stay here with me, then it will allow you to live a very long life like me.” 

John kissed him again. His heart still fluttering from the feeling. “I am not sure how I could possibly leave you now. I know I should, but - .”

“If it helps your decision any, I don't want you to go.” Sherlock stood up and walked over the back of the couch. “Let's go lay down.” 

John wondered for a moment if that was convention here, or if it was Sherlock ignoring convention. Unable to decide for himself he walked around like he was accustomed to. Sherlock lead him into a bedroom with a large bed in the middle. He got another smaller crystal out of the cabinet and attached it to the same chain as John's tags. He walked to the closest side of the bed and sat down. John went to the far side and did the same. 

The moment that they were laying down, Sherlock had moved close to John. The blanket coming up to their chests. John pushed Sherlock's hair back from his face. He needed to see it all. Not to have it obstructed. Even if his hair was part of his beauty. He kissed Sherlock again. Unable to help himself. 

Sherlock turned on his side and slid his hand underneath John's shirt. His hand glided along John's chest. John sighed. It seemed so strange to feel so exciting just to be touched, but it did for the first time. “I'm not quite sure what I am doing, so please tell me if anything seems too far. I only have the knowledge obtained from observing people.” 

John wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer. “You're doing wonderfully. Just do what you feel drawn to and nothing will go wrong.” Sherlock rested his head on John's shoulder. 

John watched as Sherlock's eyes drifted close and his breath steadied. Just as John was about to fall asleep himself, he heard Sherlock mumble. “John.” 

“Hmm?” John moaned. 

Sherlock nuzzled into John's neck. “Is it weird to say I think I may love you after only one day? It's just that I may never see you again and I think it's the truth.” 

John opened to eyes to stare at Sherlock in disbelief, but he still had his eyes closed. He considered this. Was this what this change in emotion was? This force that pulled him to Sherlock. “No. I think that if anyone would know after only one day, it would be you. You're the smartest man in all of Atlantis. In all of the world, if you ask my opinion.” 

___________________________________

John stretched underneath the blankets. Already he felt slightly sticky from the heat. The light was pouring in through the tiny window. He glanced around for Sherlock, but he could not be found anywhere. He didn't concern himself with worry recognizing that he has no idea of Sherlock's morning habits. He brushed down his hair with his fingers as he walked back into the main room. Still no Sherlock. He began to wonder what they do for fun besides exploring. He wouldn't mind having some tea and reading the paper, but that seemed like a little bit of a stretch. Instead he pulled the two books out of his pack and sat on the couch reading them over. He wanted to show Sherlock a few things. He thought it would be easiest to start from a source material. He wanted to leave them here when he left. 

About a half hour later, Sherlock came running in through the door. He was speaking quickly, but in hushed tones. “John. John you need to leave.” 

John stood up. “Wait why? What's wrong?” He worried what he could possibly do that made Sherlock react that way. 

He pushed on John. Trying to get him to put his shoes on. “Please. Something has happened. You have to run.” 

John put his arm out to stop Sherlock. “Wait. What is going on?” 

Sherlock took a deep breath. “Shoes and I'll tell you.” John complied. “A man from your company has stolen the Heart of Atlantis and Kida. You have to go. They are out searching for any one they can find and won't think twice about killing you.” John still wasn't sure he didn't want to stand and fight. He was a soldier. He didn't retreat until it was dire, but the look on Sherlock's face made him reconsider. “Please go. For me. I can't see you be killed.” 

John pulled on his arm. “Come with me. You're not the favourite with the natives and if they are out looking for people who don't look like them, you could be targeted too. You don't exactly carry their appearance.” John stuck his head out. Noting that the coast was clear he took Sherlock's hand before he had the chance to agree and took off in the direction of the forest. 

John ducked behind every building. Always checking in every direction before making his way to the next marker. Using his military training to always keep the advantage. He would feel better if he could only make it to the trees. There was cover within the forest. Places to hide. He was relying on Sherlock's information of the forgotten land. 

As John took off from the last building, he had many lengths to go before he would reach the cover of the trees. It was during this longest length that he heard them. An angry crowd in pursuit. He took one second to glance over his shoulder. Taking in a quick assessment, he found there to be about twenty in pursuit. Each carrying basic weapons. John picked up the speed. Never letting go of Sherlock's hand. He wasn't going to let him go. 

A wave of relief washed over John when they finally hit the tree cover. This didn't stop his determination, but let Sherlock help guide him through the twists and turns. He thought the noise seemed to be getting farther and farther away. 

“We have made our way completely around. Up.” Sherlock guided as he started climbing the tree. He reached down and helped pull John onto the lowest branch as well. They shimmied up the tree until the ground was barely visible. 

John allowed himself to catch his breath. He watched the ground for a length of time until he was certain that they couldn't have possibly saw them climb this specific tree. He looked at Sherlock's face. “I'm so sorry I got you into this.” He apologized. 

Sherlock leaned forward on his balanced branch and quickly kissed John. “Never be sorry for us. I would gladly give up my life for having last night.” 

“Me too.” Sherlock rocked on his post a moment. John reached out to steady him. “Are you okay?” 

Sherlock shook his head. “It's the Heart. I can feel it getting farther away. It can't be taken out of Atlantis.” 

“What? What is the Heart?” John asked worried. He kept his hand on Sherlock so he couldn't fall. 

“Our power source.” Sherlock reached down to the crystal around his neck. “Without it. We all die.” 

Fear jolted through John. “We have to go get it back. You can't -” Just as John uttered the last syllable came a searing pain in his shoulder. His consciousness went dark and he felt like he was falling. 

All he could hear was Sherlock yelling “John!”

___________________________________

 

It started coming back in bits and pieces. At first all there was, was pain. A pain in his shoulder, but also all over his body. 

Pain. 

Pain was good. 

Pain meant he wasn't dead. 

Yet. 

Next he could hear sounds. Nothing seemed to be making sense. He had to have hit his head really hard. 

He tried to will his eyes to open. At first he just couldn't. He couldn't move anything. There was just pain and unintelligible sounds. Just as he tried harder and harder he could feel himself slipping under again. Being swallowed by unconsciousness. 

After several blackouts, he finally regained control of his body. His eyes fluttered open before the darkness could encroach on him again. 

Before he was able to look around, arms clutched around him. 

“John.” A murmur filled his ears. 

It was Sherlock. 

Sherlock. 

He was okay. Sherlock was okay. He was holding him. Some how they were both still alive. “Sherlock.” He whispered. He didn't mean to whisper, but that was all he could get his body to do. 

Sherlock pulled back and looked down on him in utter happiness. He brushed John's hair out of the way. Not that it was really long enough to be in the way. “Oh John. You'll be okay.” he cooed. 

John tried to take in the room. They were back in Sherlock's building. He was laying in his bed. The same one he woke up in. That all wasn't a dream was it. He couldn't think of a more horrifying dream. “What – What happened?” John questioned. He tried to sit up, but winced from the pain in his shoulder. 

Sherlock pushed down gently on his chest. It was just then that he noticed he didn't have a shirt on. He took a moment to reassure himself that he did in fact have pants on. “You were shot. A man had heard us and climbed a tree. I wasn't watching. I'm so sorry. He got an arrow in your left shoulder. I'm so sorry, John. I wasn't paying attention to the space behind you.” 

John lifted his right hand and caressed Sherlock's cheek. “It's not your fault. But how did I end up here?” 

“Well. When you were hit, you fell. I tried to catch you, but it didn't happen. I jumped down out of the tree and stood over you. I told them that they were not to touch you. That you were with me, and that if they even thought about hurting you I would destroy them. Being thought of as the devil has its advantages. They all had backed off of you, and I carried you back here. They stood guard outside my door until the rest of your crew returned with Kida. After that, they couldn't be bothered. Once my full strength returned, I healed you with the crystal. Sorry it is taking a little while to take total affect. It would have been more effective if I would have been able to do it right away. You will be pain free within the hour.” Sherlock explained. 

“But how did you carry me here? You were barely strong enough to stay in the tree?” 

Sherlock shrugged and looked out the window. “Adrenaline I suppose. Human instinct.” 

“A need to protect one's partner?” John mentioned. Part of him meant it as a joke, but there was a part of him that didn't. 

Sherlock didn't look down. He just nodded. 

John tugged on Sherlock's sleeve. “Please come here. Don't turn away from me now.” John's nerves had been standing on end. He didn't want to leave any regrets. 

Sherlock walked slowly around the bed, and sat down on it next to John. “I just don't want to loose you now. After everything we've been through. It is going to hurt enough to see you leave. Please don't make me get any more attached.” 

John tried to move and winced from the pain. He took the opportunity to inspect the damage. Nothing was left of the wound except an ugly scar. He forced himself to move to his side and lay his head on Sherlock's chest. His arms wrapped around him tightly as he felt the skin against his cheek. He breathed in Sherlock's scent deeply. “What makes you think I could possibly leave now?” He nuzzled in closer, burying his face into Sherlock's chest. “I don't think I could ever have left. From the moment I met you, part of me knew I would be staying.” 

Sherlock's hand roamed over his back. “Are you serious? Are you really going to stay with me.” John could hear the excitement buzzing in his voice. 

He nodded. “I don't really have anything to go back to.” He paused, giving himself time to admit it. “And I don't want to ever be away from you. I – I have fallen in love with you.” 

He waited on Sherlock's reaction, and at first he didn't think he was going to get one. He sat in silence. John dared not flinch. It wasn't until Sherlock tightened his grip on John and kissed the top of his head, that John let himself breath again. “I love you too, John.” Sherlock's fingers moved to John's shoulder and circled around his scar. 

John watched his movements. Mesmerized by the touch of his fingers. His tan skin twisted in a red angry mess. It was a stark contrast to the pale fingers. “Sorry that is quite ugly now.” 

Sherlock leaned over and kissed it. “I think anything that is a part of you couldn't be ugly. Actually I have an idea.” John sat up as Sherlock slipped out from beneath him. He walked out of the room, and returned several moments later with a pen like object. He sat back down. “I have an idea. If you want to stay, would you like to look like the rest of us?” 

It took John a moment before he realized what Sherlock was talking about. The markings. Sherlock wanted to know if John wanted to be marked like he was. “What do they mean?” John questioned. 

Sherlock began to explain “Each one means something different. They enhance an already prominent feature. Like Kida's promotes her sympathy for the tears of her people. It helps her to be a better ruler.” Sherlock turned so he could see the mark on his back. “This one promotes wisdom. My mother gave it to me when I was quite young.” 

He nodded. “I trust you.” 

“It will sting just a little.” Sherlock warned before he pressed the object against his skin. It did indeed sting. It felt like constant stabbing as it moved, but John wasn't afraid of a little pain. Sherlock swirled around his scar and then started moving closer to his chest before finally making a mark above his heart. When he finished he carefully blew on the marking making it feel icy cold. 

John stared as the light blew shown brightly against his tan skin. “What does this one mean?” He asked as his fingers traced over it. The pain had completely faded. It seemed so surreal. 

Sherlock placed the object on a stand beside the bed. “It means caring. Your greatest gift is your heart.”  
He seemed not to want to continue with his next words. “I hear that your linguist has assisted the Atlanteans in reclaiming some of our old technology. It won't be long before they are able to return to the surface.” 

John knew what he was worried about. He thought if John could return that he would. That he would want to live on the surface and only visit. John wanted to do everything in his power to reassure Sherlock he wasn't going anywhere. He pushed him back until he laid down and John climbed over him. His legs resting on either of his sides, and his crystal hanging from his neck and laying on Sherlock's chest. “That would be good. That way I can take you to meet my family one day.” He pressed his nose against Sherlock's cheek. “Although we may not tell them we live deep under the ocean, but it would be good to see their face when looking at you.” 

Sherlock's fingers played at John's sides as he smiled up at him. “You want me to meet your family?” 

John moved down to suck lightly on Sherlock's neck. He spoke between kisses. “One day. For now. I want. You. All to myself.” He pressed his chest into Sherlock's and groaned deeply. He nipped lightly at his ear. “You're all mine. How would you like for me to make you all mine?” He whispered as seductively as he could. 

Sherlock's body shook as he let out a sigh. He didn't speak. He just nodded. He could feel Sherlock's body aching for it. He needed this as much as John did. They needed the release. Something that could speak the volumes that they had felt. 

John unbuttoned his trousers as he pulled them off. He didn't want to wait any longer. Eagerness was clouding his mind, and for once he gave into it. He leaned back over Sherlock and began kissing him deeply. His tongue invading the other man's mouth and savouring each touch. 

Sherlock let out a groan and pushed his hands on John's chest, pushing up against him. “Wait. I want to see something.” 

John allowed himself to be rolled off. It was like Sherlock to be curious. He watched as Sherlock sat up and pulled down John's pants. His hard cock springing out of its confinements. Sherlock took it in his mouth. The feeling was enough to make John cum immediately. Pleasure swirled around in his head and made him groan loudly. 

Sherlock paused as John moaned and looked up to him. John knew he was looking for confirmation that everything was perfect. John ran a hand through Sherlock's hair and nodded. He resumed sucking and John gripped his hair tightly. He fought to keep his eyes open from the pleasure. He didn't want to miss a moment of this gorgeous man. His hand holding Sherlock's hair never forced him down, but was there in a pure need. 

The other man stopped and pulled his own clothes off. John took the moment to appreciate the visual of a hard Sherlock climbing all over his body. The rise and fall of his beautifully sculpted chest. His stomach ending in a thin patch of dark hair. His long hard cock pointing up at John. John couldn't help himself as he reached down and took Sherlock's cock in his hand. He began pumping him as the man almost fell to pieces on top of him. Sherlock took to preparing himself as John began to move his hand faster and faster. He hastily moved so that he was balancing above John's dick. “Is this okay?” Sherlock questioned. 

God. It was more than okay. It was like a fantasy. Unable to speak, John just nodded. The feeling of pushing himself into the detective was overwhelming. It was the only feeling that he could concentrate on. He held himself back as his only instinct was to thrust inside him over and over again. John still had enough sense to not to hurt him. He held onto Sherlock's thighs and helped as he moved slowly back and forth on John's cock. He could tell when he had positioned himself so that John was hitting his prostate over and over again because he began to move faster. 

His head being thrown back and moaning really loudly. “Fuck John.” A line of Sherlock's pre cum fell across John's stomach. The sensation causing John to grow even harder. He didn't think that it was possible. He had never been this turned on before. 

Their bodies moved in rhythm. John thrusting up when Sherlock wanted it, begged for it, and Sherlock slamming his body down onto John in unrelenting waves of pleasure. 

“Fuck. John. I'm going to cum.” Sherlock breathed as he bounced up and down. 

“Yes. Yes.” John encouraged. He was barely holding himself together.

Sherlock's cock pulsed as he cummed all over John's stomach. John's eyes were unable to see anything as his own body coil in preparation. His cock spewing deep within Sherlock's body. Sherlock collapsed on top of John. Pushing together their sweat riddled bodies. John absentmindedly traced a finger along Sherlock's back. 

Sherlock had regained function of his brain before John did because he remarked. “Yes. I don't think that I could ever be bored.” 

“Hmm?” John asked still slightly in the dreamy state. 

Sherlock pressed his elbows into the bed as he looked down on John. “Nothing. Just before you said I would be bored with you. I'm fairly certain that we can always find something to do.” 

John chuckled as he kissed Sherlock sweetly. “I hope you always feel that way.” 

Sherlock ran his finger over John's cheek “I absolutely will. So many wasted years. I'll never waste another day.” 

John reached up to touch Sherlock's crystal around his neck. “Neither will I.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check my blog at http://sherlocksdiaryfromthetardis.tumblr.com/ for updates on my writings.


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